The Last Straw

Swallowing the Anchor For Good

by William R. Carr

At the relatively young age of 63, this old salt has had enough. Though the
very idea of retirement seemed totally alien to me only a year or two ago, I
chose to retire just as soon as I managed to get twenty years of pension credits under my
belt. I've finally made it!

Not that I don't have a few lingering regrets about swallowing
the anchor. In fact, becoming a pensioner at this age feels a
lot like just quitting – something I'm really not fond of doing, at least on a
permanent basis. And, at one time, "burning my bridges behind me" would
have been unthinkable. But I'm going to effectively burn the bridges by not
renewing my seaman's papers and license.

In spite of a long seagoing career that began as a Navy sailor in 1961, and
spanned 38 years as a proud member of the International Organization of Masters, Mates
and Pilots (MM&P), retirement wasn't something that I naturally hankered for
or looked forward to. Thanks to continued good health and bodily fitness (not to
mention a love of the sea), I figured I had at least another decade's worth of
gainful shipboard employment left in me. But other things had developed to
change my outlook – prompting me to get out of the business as soon as possible.

For one thing, the industry has been changing at
an alarming rate during the last decade or two, prompting a
growing feeling of alienation. In addition to changes in the very nature of the
industry, the American flag fleet had been declining steadily during the
last twenty years or more – to the point that it almost seemed threatened with
total extinction. And beside the feeling that there may not be a future, as the U.S. flag fleet
continued to shrink, the job of the seaman was getting tougher and more demanding
all
the while. Ships were getting bigger and bigger as crew sizes were getting
smaller and smaller – and official responsibilities, along with the specter of
potential criminal liability for the slightest slip, were increasing out of all
proportion to the rewards and satisfactions of the job.

Along with the things that made the job more and more demanding (in spite
of increasing computerization and automation that should have eased the
workload), the burdens imposed on seafarers by growing regimes of both national
and international regulation have become increasingly onerous. And, of course,
as containerized shipping became more and more efficient, opportunities to get
ashore and unwind became fewer and fewer and of shorter and shorter duration.

To compound this situation, in the devastating wake of the Exxon Valdez disaster, "unwinding" ashore
(in the time-honored manner of seamen), became a very professionally hazardous
activity. The Coast Guard clamped down on the sailor's once inalienable right to
imbibe in a few drinks – infringing on that right even ashore on the
sailor's own time. The matter of alcohol
consumption became one of total paranoia in the industry, and many seamen simply quit going
ashore at all as a result.

Now, if it comes to the Coast Guard's attention that a
licensed officer gets (or has had), a DUI arrest ashore, his career is just about ruined –
even if he has never taken a drop of alcohol while aboard ship or even during
his entire periods of
employment. In other words, not only is the idea of safety aboard ship being
carried to extremes well into the injustice category, tyranny itself is
obviously on the march in the maritime industry!

I have very seldom ever drank alcoholic beverages while aboard
ship (even when allowed), but I simply refused to allow the Coast Guard, or any
other regulatory authority, to dictate what I did or did not do while ashore on
my own time. But in this recalcitrant behavior, I knew I was gambling
hazardously with my job and career. Fortunately, I was able to stay the
course without mishap and wind up my career without any blemishes on my record
– but I knew I no longer belonged in the profession.

In another instance of "guilty until proven
innocent" regulatory policy, pre-employment and random drug testing have also
become a regular
requirement, though I can remember almost no manifestation of serious drug problems on
American ships during my lengthy career. "Zero tolerance" for both
drink and drugs became the
officially posted company and Coast Guard "warning" to
non-conformists, and such warning has always come across for what it actually
was – a
"threat."

There was a time when the seaman's life was particularly
interesting and gratifying. The job has never been any easy one, and seamen were generally totally deprived of what might be called a "normal home life." Yet, though
seamen had to work hard, they usually had ample opportunity to "play hard"
too. And that's what kept many of us hooked on what most "normal
people" would have considered a life of hardship and privation.

But, with
the advent of containerization, along with alcohol paranoia, the life of a seaman was altered radically. Now
it's literally all work and no play, and the seaman no longer really has the fulfilling,
and somewhat balanced and varied, life he once had. Today, most mariners try to live
"normal" lives ashore
between shipping assignments (while on vacation), and go to sea merely to earn a living.

There's no longer any pleasure in anticipating that next great port of call. Calls in "good ports"
have become very dangerous to those seaman
who still insist on going ashore and trying to have a good time as in the
"good old days." Essentially, it has come to the point that, for most
mariners, the total reward of the job comes at payoff – everything up to that
point is an endurance test and a type of voluntary incarceration.

The only remnant of the "good life" in going to sea is the continued
romance and challenges of the sea itself, along with the continuing satisfactions of the work being accomplished. The long peaceful days of
shipboard life while at sea still retain some of the charm of times gone by. But
even that has been degraded by the shear size of modern ships, undermanned to
the point that life aboard is almost like being aboard a huge ghost ship.

Ships have already become obscenely large, and they are continuing
to get even bigger, carrying thousands of shipping container, any one of which
can potentially accommodate more illegal aliens (or terrorists), than the entire
ship's crew.

Small
crew size has meant that there is very little social interaction or camaraderie
among crews on large modern ships. If the sailor isn't working or on watch, he's likely trying to get some much
needed sleep. And when a crew member does have some time to relax, likely as not
he'll spend his time alone in his well appointed room, reading or watching a tape or
DVD.

As if this degradation of the quality of shipboard life were
not enough, the pure red tape involved in just maintaining basic qualifications and
certification as a seaman has become very burdensome. It's literally become
"a job" just to remain trained and certified. Long
"experience" no longer serves as evidence of professional competence. Things have
become so bad that it almost seemed a "system" was intentionally being
devised to weed out all of us who
remembered an earlier era – an era when things worked well, were much simpler,
and the overall quality of the seagoing life, was much greater than now.

To illustrate the growth of red tape, during the first thirty years of my career the only
documentation I required was my Merchant Mariner's Document (Z-Card), and license.
The Z-Card was free and good for life, and was not only a universally recognized
certificate of fitness and competence for the seaman, but often served as his only
passport for international travel to join a ship. The license had to be renewed
every five years, and was the officer's universally recognized certificate of
competency as a ship's officer.

One of the great wonders of the Old Merchant Marine – something that always
amazed me and contributed to my pride as a seaman – was that a ship could be
miraculously crewed up in any port on a few days' notice. Seamen, dispatched by
the company personnel office, and/or various union halls, would converge on a
ship from
all points of the compass and join the ship. In no time articles would be signed
and the ship would be ready to load cargo and deliver it anywhere in the world.
It was that simple. Every experienced seaman knew his job, and if there were any
green hands they soon learned theirs, and everything usually worked out quite smoothly.

This is now history. Ships can still be crewed in like manner, but the
burdens of just "being a seaman" and maintaining official
qualifications to satisfy regulatory requirements have multiplied exponentially.
In addition to the Z-Card and License, an STCW certificate (Standards of
Training and Competence for Watchstanders), is required of all seafaring watchstanders
in international trade. This is essentially an United Nations (IMO),
license to sail, and the Z-Card and federal merchant marine officer's license
are worthless without it. Actual refresher courses at a school are required
every five years for such things as "Basic Safety Training,"
"Radar Observer," etc.

And not the least of the burdensome
requirements for today's American seafarer is the requirement to be federally
certified drug free, with a "Federal Drug Free Certificate," which is
only good for six months! And these only touch upon the additional regulatory
burdens of the modern seafarer. On board ship the increasing regulatory paper load
caused by such things as the IMO imposed "ISM" Code (International
Safety Management Code), rivals
increasing cargo carrying capacities.

All of this was before 9/11/2001, of course. It was
part of the globalization process, the internationalization of business,
and the perceived need to internationally micro-manage the maritime
industry for safety purposes. Since 9/11 things have got a lot worse! A raft of new security regulations
have been developed and imposed on ports, ships, and seamen by a more security minded International
Maritime Organization and our own Department of Homeland Security. All national
and international regulations are being expanded and updated with an eye
toward "security" as well as simply safety, in light of the
global terrorist threat.

And more is on the way. In fact I've already lost
track of all the regulatory agencies, "Codes," and new laws
effecting ships and seamen (literally requiring a pocket index to
remember all the acronyms). This, of course, assisted me in determining
that it was high time for me to retire at the earliest possible moment.
I'm embarrassed to admit that I haven't got enough cogs in the wheels of
my mental machinery to keep track of it all.

In spite of the fact that every single regulatory
requirement, and everything connected to every single shipboard job, has
been carefully and meticulously codified and made available for each
seaman's perusal (in the form of a huge manual which is continually
being updated and enlarged), nonetheless the whole seems somewhat
overwhelming. Even though most has been conveniently reduced to a myriad
of "check-off lists" to be used by seamen at the hands-on
level, I still consider myself very lucky to have made it out of the
industry without running afoul of one or more of the regulations. It's a
wonder I'm not ending my career in some sort or degree of disgrace.
Retirement is almost like having successfully run a gauntlet that became
increasingly
grueling with every passing year!

Additionally, the quality of life of seafarers is
continuing to be degraded by other agencies and regulations in the
interests of national security. The Department of State is making it tough on foreign seamen by requiring them to have
passports and individual visas in order to go ashore in U.S. ports. In
this, they are following the lead of communist countries like China,
making shore leave difficult for foreign seamen. Since the U.S. is
joining the communist world, and other repressive governments in
instituting this precaution, it probably won't be long until other
countries will begin to impose the same sort of requirements for U.S.
mariners in their ports, as some already do.

In the interests of security, some ports and container
terminals, have taken it upon themselves to prevent seamen from
embarking or disembarking from ships, or traversing their facilities,
effectively confining seafarers to their ships while in port, whether or
not they have passports and visas. And I understand these additional
(perhaps illegal), restrictions have been imposed on American seamen in
American ports!

The IMO is
working on a new internationally required security ID card for all seaman, and the
DHS is working on a similar but separate security ID system for all American transportation workers. The former is called a
"SID" (Seafarer Identity
Document), and the latter a "TWIC" (Transportation Worker Identification
Credential). These are supposedly "fool proof" identity documents that
utilize the latest identity tracking technologies. Presumably, American
seamen will have to carry both, in addition to their Z-Card, in order to
function in the maritime world.

Since 9/11, all of the federal agencies making up the
Department of Homeland Security have been clamping down and tightening up on
port, ship, and seafarer security – most particularly on American flag ships
and American seamen. This, in spite of the fact that American seamen are
supposed to be (ought to be, and actually are), part of the Homeland Security
team. It's the other 95% of the seamen, regularly entering our ports on foreign
flag ships, that are the real potential security threat.

Yet American seamen are being
taken off of ships in chains (or plastic cuffs), by DHS task forces for such
things as old forgotten DUI arrests and back alimony. I have been witness to one
case of this myself – where at least a 20 man federal DHS taskforce (USCG "Sea
Marshals," DEA, Customs, USDA, Immigration, etc.), devoted the better part
of a day apprehending three American seamen from an American flag ship. The
entire crew was treated as if it were a band of terrorist suspects. This was our "welcome home" from a long, trying,
voyage to the Far East.

The alleged offences of intended quarry were not even remotely
related to terrorism or national security. They weren't even "real
crimes," and certainly nothing within the federal venue – except for the
fact that the culprits were American seamen, and thus apparently now considered
"federally" liable for anything they may do.

Various other federal agencies, such as the Environmental
Protection Agency, also seem to be taking particular aim at American flag ships and
American seamen, and are aiming at them with particularly onerous fines and
prison terms for rare mishaps and relatively minor infractions.

American seamen are now being subjected to renewed, intensive,
and maybe multiple, background security checks. And the FBI is looking for,
and at, every little thing. We are being cautioned by our union officials that
those old forgotten parking tickets, DUI arrests, odd nights in the clinker, or
expunged childhood offenses, had better be remembered and put down on one's next
Z-Card or license renewal application, or serious complications may arise –
not the least of which might be federal charges and serious prison time for a
petty oversight. And we are thus being cautioned "not to say anything about
anything" to any apprehending authority until our lawyers are present –
no matter what the charges.

So, it seems that the DHS agencies are taking great pains to
make sure that the American 5% of seamen frequenting American ports are destined
to be as clean as AAA graduates or Sunday school teachers. It appears that, being
incapable of significantly addressing the real threats, they are, in a
wholesale manner, treating American seamen as potential enemy terrorists –
as if they are the number one security threat in our sea ports – and thus they
appear to be vigorously "doing something" to insure our national
security.

In spite of all the security efforts and expense, Nick Blenkey,
points out in a sidebar entitled "Nine million potential Trojan
Horses?" in the July 2006 issue of Marine Log, "On paper, the
Department of Homeland Security has comprehensive maritime security programs in
place. Critics are not convinced that they are entirely effective in the real
world." Of course, I'm one of those critics.

Though they are only doing an admittedly tough job by whatever
means they have at their disposal, this is
certainly no way to make American seamen feel like part of the national security
team. Though I don't think I have any forgotten offenses from decades past, I
certainly didn't feel like part of the Homeland Security team. And if being
subjected to this sort of treatment is what it means to be part of the team, I
wanted off the team.

But, perhaps the last straw for me came in the Summer of 2005 when, due to an overlooked Basic
Safety Training endorsement expiration date (on an STCW certificate that was
otherwise valid for another year and a half), I had to
journey from Los Angeles, California, to Baltimore, Maryland, to take a week "Basic Safety
Training" course to re-validate that STCW certificate. The cost was
considerable in both time and money, and (as it turned out), a month's delay in
shipping out totally
destroyed 2005 as a final "good pension credit year."

I retired anyway (as soon as I could), after signing off my last ship in
January of this year (2006) – with an incredibly expensive Basic Safety Training endorsement good for
another 4-1/2 years.

Still, in spite of retirement and all the misgivings about the
maritime industry in the era of globalization and Homeland Security, I had always assumed that I would renew my
seaman's papers at least one more time
– just in case I did ever wanted or needed to go to sea again. Perhaps, I
thought, in a time of
increased national emergency my services might again be persuasively solicited.
And I'd also been looking at potential volunteer opportunities on mercy ships
and historical museum and educational vessels, with an eye toward occasionally
working for pleasure or for the benefit of others.

But as I began filling out the renewal application, gathering up the
ridiculous amount of documentation required, going to the county sheriff's
office to be fingerprinted, making a doctor's appointment for a
physical, and contemplating the 150 mile round trip drive to get tested and
federally certified drug free, I threw up my hands in total disgust.

Though I had planned to renew by mail, I understand that new
security concerns would require that I make at least one physical appearance at
the processing Coast Guard Regional Examination Center. In the past, this has
always been New Orleans for me – a 1,200 mile round trip. But now
(fortunately), I would be able to merely make a 300 mile round trip journey to
St. Louis, Missouri.

The ability to renew by mail was originally instituted to
simplify and expedite the renewal process. The requirement to take an open book
examination on Rules of the Road, etc., was dropped to make it possible, and a
new license would be forthcoming in a week or two. But now we are being told to
start the process at least six months ahead of time, and make sure you will not
have to get a seagoing job during that period.

There was a time when, if seaman's license should expired at
sea, it was considered good until he reached sign-off. That grace period was
quite reasonable, but it's not reasonable any more. Now, if your license is
going to expire in a few months, you are beached high and dry until it is
renewed.

On a much more trivial note, I was somewhat annoyed to learn
that I'd have to shave my beard in order to submit an
"acceptable" Coast Guard Z-Card photo with my application. It wasn't so much that
I had to shave my beard in the interests of national security that irked me.
Lord knows the Coast Guard and DHS must have ample cause to suspect all of us
old tried and true American mariners as security risks. No, it wasn't that. It
was learning that practicing Sikhs, Moslems, and other religious people who wear
beards, can submit evidence of their religious need for them and be excused from
the requirement! That irked me. By submitting such evidence, they will be
permitted to submit photos with beards obscuring their features.

This was the ultimate insult added to what seems to me a
sufficiently long chain of injury.

The idea of having to jump through enumerable hoops at the end
of an already long career, from which I am already retired, totally dampened my enthusiasm for future seagoing
service. Quite frankly, the maritime employment environment has administratively
become a
very hostile environment – at least from my perspective. As a new pensioner,
renewing my merchant
mariner papers seemed like trying to swim up a cold, swift, mountain stream in
order to voluntarily come under the thumb and scrutiny of a raft of hostile
public servants. Then it hit me. I don't have to do this anymore. I don't ever
have to jump through those hoops and hurdles again. I'm retired!

The Coast Guard (and Congress), with all good intentions, has
simply thrown up one or two too many hoops and hurdles for the likes of me, and
I'm happy to be out of all facets of the industry for good. In
spite of the big lump it causes in my throat, I'm swallowing the the big anchor
permanently and irrevocably. If I ever go to sea again, it will be in a pea pod,
hopefully far beneath the Coast Guard, IMO, and DHS administrative radar scopes.

We hear that there is a developing shortage of licensed
officers industry wide. But the reserve pool of qualified merchant marine
officers is diminishing pretty swiftly. The training ground (the American flag
fleet itself), has almost disappeared from the high seas. If there is ever
another major war, requiring pensioners to come out of retirement, there won't
be many takers in this day and age. It won't be like the 1960s, when thousands
of seamen were willing to come out of retirement to make the massive Vietnam
sealift possible. If there is a next time (and there probably will be), they simply won't be there. And many of
us who are here, won't be available unless practically every national and
international rule and regulation is waved or ignored, and the Coast Guard goes
out of its way to reissue lapsed licenses.